F*cking Fish
*Splash splash splash*
Who driveth a pathway on tumbrils past my doorstep in the eve?
Nor rumors did you bringeth a revelation to fold my newspapers, no?
Shame, I who dressed a tuxedo for... Good Gods
is that dirt right beloweth thou'st a hell pool?! Disgusting,
but it looks like 8:00 a.m. An alleyways a crowded in
and steps I art, to reveal these streams of yonder fish
passing through labour shores to which, I must leave for now.
But late am I, delayed upon these f*cking fish.